


A Snowy Night In

by orphan_account



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Magna Carta Cartel (Band)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Foreplay, Kissing, One Shot, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's a snowy night in Linköping and we're staying in where it's warm with other things to do...





	A Snowy Night In

Snow descends in easy drifts upon the buildings of Linköping, the neighborhoods, the trees, the roads, the sidewalks, covering it all in a blanket of striking white. Out beyond the open door of the apartment balcony, Martin watches it descend lazily in soft flecks of white. The thick clouds hang above, shrouding the city in darkness, blocking the moonlight from piercing the sky. The smoke from his cigarette disappears into the night air when he exhales it in a rush. He takes a long drag from the cigarette, shoulder propped against the open door, his hair left without wax, falling naturally against his forehead.

 

“You’re letting the heat out, you know,” I call without force, from where I lounged on his sectional, skimming through a book I found on the coffee table - it’s in Swedish - so, the only enjoyment I get from it is admiring the written language without quite understanding it. I set it back on the table, hook an arm around the back of the couch to lift myself up and watch Martin. He twists on his heel to look back at me with an arched brow.

 

“Would you rather I fill the place with smoke?” he remarks, before putting his nearly spent cigarette out in the ashtray he held in his other hand. Obediently, always a pleaser, Martin sets down the ashtray on a nearby shelf and then swings the balcony door shut.

 

“While I think your habit is sexy,” I begin to say as Martin tiredly comes in and round the sectional, “I think you contributed to your upcoming cancer enough. Come join me.”

 

Martin rolls his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants that look good on him. His tummy, lightly covered in hair and a bit prominent above the waistband, the sweatpants hang a bit too low around his hips. I stare, and he notices.

 

“I can keep you warm, älsking,” he teases, taking a seat beside me. I blush, my tongue caught by my abrupt shyness which always happens whenever he starts flirting. He knows this, and always pushes my buttons because of it. He takes my hand in his, and I immediately feel the slight roughness of his fingers from the recent tour. Leaning in, he kisses my hand, my knuckles, and it has my face burning.

 

“Well, you were successful,” I wryly mumble, considering I'm now burning up. It has him chuckling softly and looking at me with a warm smile. My heart is racing at this point, stomach twisting with both nervousness and a desperation to feel more of his touch. He leans in to kiss me on the cheek— causing me to make a slight flustered noise, and it has him chuckling harder. Then he angles his head and closes the distance to gently kiss my lips.

 

I feel a hand rest on my thigh, gripping it gently through the fabric of my black jeans. It has me tensing up. He kisses me slowly and tenderly, a deep overlapping of his lips that I try to reciprocate as best I can. It makes for a passionate kiss that has not just my face burning up; my belly fills with heat and it makes me more responsive. I raise a hand to shyly cup it around his cheek, feeling the scratch of developing stubble and the shape of his strong jaw. He hums against my mouth—another burst of heat in my belly follows. He turns me on so easily. With a firm departing purse of his lips against mine, Martin pulls back just enough to search in my eyes. He speaks lowly, in a murmur that only contributes to my flustered state.

 

“You taste sweet and spiced, love. Like apples and cinnamon.”

 

I knew explaining that I had spiced cider before coming over to see him would kill the mood. So I just smile at him weakly and opt to say while searching in his beautiful blue eyes, my hand drifting down from his jaw to rest on his muscular chest, “And you taste like you, Martin.”

 

That has him snorting.

 

“I sure hope I do.”

 

He abruptly shifts closer, bringing one hand up to tenderly cradle my cheek. I suck in a breath, look at him with wide, lovestruck eyes. He leans in and kisses me twice more in firm pecks against my lips, and then kisses my cheek, before he begins to say lowly, searching in me eyes, “Let me…”

 

Martin trails off, seemingly unsure on what to decide on; I figure there is a lot he wants me to let him do. I bite my lip and say quietly, “Whatever you want. I want you, in whatever way.”

 

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, seemingly pleased with my response, a grin curling my lips. An arrow may have just driven through my heart, because I'm speechless from both my arousal and my love for him. He gently kisses me once more, and I blindly return it, before he draws back and leans away to watch himself take hold of my sweater. He pulls it off of me with my willingness, and then reaches down to begin undoing my jeans. Meanwhile, watching him, I watch him admiring my newly exposed partial nudity. My black bra maintains the decency of my breasts, but I know that won’t last much longer.

 

He gets my jeans open, exposing the navy blue fabric of my panties, and the small bow that sits at the waistband. He impatiently hooks his large fingers into the waistband of my jeans. I lean back to prop up on an elbow, raising my hips for him to begin working them down my legs. He gets them off of me, tossing them onto the floor. I move to sit up again, but Martin is quick to lean over me, keeping me laying against the couch with one hand placed against my midsection. I look up at him with a flushed face, and allow it. Martin’s eyes move down over my body, admiring the way it calls for his touch.

 

“You’re so beautiful, kärlek” he murmurs, his hands running along the dip and rise of my hips, the softness of my sides and stomach, which he squeezes in his hands, an appreciative touch that has me biting my lip. I'm a little shy about this, but enjoying it most of all. He seems so genuinely attracted to my body and I love him for it. He gropes my breasts through my bra as he leans in over me to kiss my forehead.

 

“You’re perfect,” Martin says softly. I feel like I'm about to combust. I let out a shuddering breath and say shyly, “Are you trying to kill me, Martin?”

 

He chuckles as he runs his strong hands around my ribcage to confidently unhook my bra, without commenting at my quip. I let him slip it off of me, letting my breasts rest against my ribcage, a lovely sight if judging by Martin’s staring. He hums and ducks his head to kiss over them lovingly, before briefly sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. I gasp as his hand raises to cup my other breast, thumb sweeping up and over my hard nipple. He bites it gently, rolling it between his teeth, his tongue wet and overwhelmingly warm against it. It’s fueling the already overwhelming heat within me.

 

“Martin,” I whine, embarrassed. He nips me once more, which makes me shudder, and then he kisses twice more over my chest, before rising to kiss my lips. I bring a hand up to curl it into his hair, so soft against my fingers. His lips are wet and warm from the licking and sucking. He’s breathing a little heavily into the kiss, and it’s incredibly hot. Our lips move together in a heated kiss, until Martin gets seemingly impatient and leans away again.

 

“I want to eat out your pussy,” he says, accent made thicker by his desire and arousal, hooking his fingers into my panties. He pauses, looks up at me with hopeful cobalt eyes and a raised eyebrow. Waiting for consent. I bite my lip and nod. God, he’s so fucking sexy, especially when he takes it step by step, makes sure I'm comfortable and he’s moving at an acceptable speed. Martin drops his gaze to watch himself begin to ease down my panties. I lift my hips for him to do so; he gets them off quickly. I press one hand to my burning face, flustered and speechless.

 

I watch silently, burning up, as Martin moves to stand up, taking a moment to step out of his sweatpants, followed by his black boxer briefs. His hard cock springs up, now released from its restricting confines. His nude body standing before me is quite a sight to behold. He’s so damn perfect.

 

Inevitably, my gaze fixates on his flushed cock. Like the rest of him, it’s flawless. I want to do so much to it, and to him, but Martin moves first. He leans over to gently, but firmly, pull my legs apart, his hands gripping my thighs. I'm on fire at this point, so fucking wet, I can feel the slickness between my legs. Martin drives me so fucking crazy with want of him.

 

“What was it that the Japanese say? Before they eat?” Martin says as he moves into position, tugging my body further down on the couch with a hold on my hips, while he moves to kneel on the carpet. He looks up at me, expecting an answer. My flustered, hazy state of mind makes it hard to think. I have to drag myself out of my distracting arousal to produce a confused, “I-Itadaki-something?”

 

The irrelevance of that question considering he’s Swedish nearly makes me laugh, but I'm distracted by Martin saying with a chuckle, “That’s it.”

 

He quickly sobers as he leans in, lowering his head between my thighs, hands gripping my hips to keep me still. 


End file.
